I’ve had a haircut. I look so diff’rent!
Younger, more handsome - a ladykiller?
I must shower, or I’ll have made my pillow
A hairy mess by the time night is spent.
I thought as I sat in that swivel chair,
My arms and body ’neath a purple cape -
A superhero who couldn’t escape -
What do hairdressers do with all that hair?
I sat, an armless ape, in near despair.
Hair today, gone tomorrow, like the snows
Of yesterhair. Is the bin where it goes?
Or is it recycled as underwear?
Please don’t just burn it! It could stuff a bear,
Or fluff shiv’ring shorn sheep in cold night air.
Mon 18 Dec 2006
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